Raging Within
by hashtag-not-moriarty
Summary: Post-season nine. Dean can't cope with what he has become, and Crowley doesn't know what to do about it. If only a certain angel wasn't locked in Heaven's dungeons - oh wait, he isn't. (TW: lots of talk of suicide)
1. Chapter 1

Dean sat up and rubbed his face.

"Crowley?!" He asked, clearly expecting his brother. "What the Hell are you doing here?"

"Ah. You didn't… hear any of that, then. Fabulous."

"Hear what?" He stood up, swaying a little. "Sam made a deal, didn't he? After all that BS about not doing the same for me… goddammit!"

Crowley huffed. "You think I'm really gonna make a deal with Moose? Keeping his soul in Hell would be more trouble than the satisfaction would be worth." He cocked his head and put his hands in his pockets. "Actually, you're probably right there. It would be quite amusing. Damn, I should've brought you back myself."

Dean shook his head, seeming unsure. "If you… who brought me back?"

"This was a lot easier to tell you when those sad little –" He looked at Dean's demon-black eyes and rephrased. "…Hands… weren't – for God's sake, can you not just _tell_?"

"No, Crowley. How on earth could I possibly 'tell' how I ended up not-dead?" There was one person he could imagine would do it, but… he was indisposed. Fuck that, he was locked up in Heaven at the whim of Metatron. Cas was lucky he was still alive.

"You don't feel it?"

"No. Where's Sam – I'd prefer to talk to him about this."

Crowley looked away. "It was Abel, alright?"

"I'm sorry?"

Crowley nodded at the blade in Dean's hand. "It was the Mark, technically, I suppose, but saying 'Abel' is much more dramatic than explaining – for the second time, I might add – that the Mark just couldn't bear to let you go."

"The Mark brought me back?" Dean frowned; he'd been hoping that dying would make it obsolete, not make it stronger. Now he thought about it, he could feel it burning in his bones – that urge to kill, to do wrong, to cause pain. "Did you know about this when you told me that it would kill me?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Again, for the second time, no. I didn't know. There were rumours, but they were started – well, as you can imagine, it was quite a bit before my time. I couldn't be sure it wasn't just that they were bored by the lack of humans to torture. But, Dean, there's something else we need to talk about. And we need to hurry up," he added, his eyes going red as Sam summoned him.

"What? I don't have time for this, I've still got to kill Metatron, since the Mark loves me too much to let me go."

"Oh stop the self-pity! So you're alive when you wished you weren't – didn't you put Moose through the exact same thing? Did you forget that the gates of Heaven are still closed, so you would just have found yourself in the Veil, watching your little brother create a bigger mess? You have bigger problems than being alive, mate."

"I know I have! Cas is locked up and Metatron –"

"The angels are no longer your concern, Dean."

Dean walked closer to the King of Hell, shifting his grip on the First Blade threateningly. "The angels are _always_ my concern, Crowley. Somehow, they manage to have more problems with authority than demons do."

"The correct phrasing there is 'than we do'." Crowley sighed, glancing at his watch.

"Excuse me?"

"Demons. We. We are both demons now. No more attempting-to-be-good for you. Now, I really have to go lie to your brother. Do your best to make a quiet exit, okay?" Crowley asked, disappearing before Dean could answer.

"Demons," Dean muttered to himself. They always lied. That's what demons did – they lied. Might as well switch 'demon' for 'liar', because that's what they did. Lied just for the fun of it. 'We'. Dean wasn't a demon. He couldn't be a demon. He'd spent decades in Hell without gaining even a spot of black in his eye. He was supposed to be Michael's vessel – the vessel of an angel of Heaven. He was the _last_ person who could ever become a demon.

So why was he afraid of calling out for Sammy?

* * *

"Moose. Long time no… oh wait. It could be centuries before I saw you next and it would only be long enough because it would mean you were no longer human. What do you want?"

"You know what I want, Crowley. Bring him back to life and I'll give you my soul. I want a deal."

"No offense, Moose, but you Winchesters don't often stick to your bargains, and getting out of Hell has become almost… routine for you. If we're going to make a deal, I want something that isn't going to run away from me." He frowned. "That sounded much more morose out loud than it did in my head."

Sam clenched his jaw. "What do you want?"

"I want a lot of things. A castle; portraits of myself; a woman to love. I'm a complicated man, Sam." Crowley paused, wondering how he was going to get out of this mess without explaining the truth. "But of course, what I want most in the world is Metatron's head on a spike."

Sam blinked rapidly. "Since when did you care about the angels?"

He shrugged. "There's only one angel up there who I'm on good terms with, and it's nice to have connections."

"Good terms?" Sam choked out a bitter laugh. "Cas can't stand you."

"But, unlike the rest of those pompous holy birds, he sees me as almost human. And that's good enough for me. So here's the deal: bring me Metatron's head, make Cas the Big Man, report back to me and I'll bring your brother back. I'll look after him until then – keep his body looking all spic-and-span for when the new God wants some fun." Crowley tried not to smile – he wasn't lying, he wasn't going to have to break his word, and he was keeping Sam busy for a few months while he got Dean accustomed to his new life. How was that for thinking on your feet?

"I can't kill Metatron without the First Blade."

"You Winchesters – no faith in your own abilities. I'm sure you'll find a way. Have we got a deal?"

Sam rubbed at his eyes, trying to hide the tears that imagining having Dean back created. "Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sighed as he stared at the demon trap that he'd almost walked into. He wasn't a demon – of course he wasn't a demon – but the Mark of Cain had definitely done _something, _and he didn't want Sammy to know that something was wrong.

Did Sammy even know he was alive? Crowley said that he was going to lie… but what about, exactly? Was he going to make up some miracle story about how Dean had lived? But if he was going to tell Sam that he was alive, why did Crowley want him to make a 'quiet exit'?

"Ah," Crowley muttered, materialising next to him and looking at the floor. _Speak of the devil. _"You learn quickly. I like you. Don't worry, I can get us both out of here, now Moose has finally let go of the spell. Come on," he added, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"No," Dean said, shrugging him off just a moment too late.

They stood in what could only be described as a throne room. The place was darker than a demon-hooker's bedroom (Dean still had nightmares about that night), but the throne in the centre was lit by about ten floodlights. It reminded Dean a little of the Iron Throne, and he wondered if Crowley had had a replica made.

"Not my work," Crowley said. "Abbadon didn't understand subtlety. Or self-awareness. Or policy. She didn't know much about anything that isn't macabre. It's on my list of things to fix, but, unfortunately, that's a very long list." He patted Dean on the shoulder. "Come on, big boy, let me show you around."

"You want to show me round Hell?" Dean asked incredulously. "Why?"

"Well, it's your new home, isn't it? I'm sorry you didn't get a viewing before you bought it but if you'd like to come this way…" He made an 'after you' gesture. And then repeated it. Dean didn't budge. "There are some things that I need to teach you, Dean, which cannot be taught anywhere but here. Now for the love of your stupid angel, let's go – unless you want some of my minions to notice a Winchester with black eyes roaming the cobbled streets of Hell? I'm sure they'd give your brother the news in the most delicate way possible."

"I don't need _you_ to teach me anything, Crowley." He strengthened his grip on the blade. He hated Hell. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he'd never gone to get Sammy from college – if maybe then he wouldn't have ended up as a torturer. Maybe, if he'd just done what Sam would have done and not gone looking for his dad, not got Sam mixed up in it all and then dead, not found himself in Hell, not refused Michael – Hell, there were a lot of things he could have done differently. Things he should have done differently. Things he could have done more carefully. He was still proud of what he and Sammy had done – shit, they'd stopped the _apocalypse _– but hindsight was a bitch.

"Being a demon isn't as simple as making deals and killing someone every once in a while, Dean. There are a lot of things I need to teach you. And I mean that in so many different ways." Crowley smiled, hoping to get a rise from the hunter-turned-demon. The funnier he kept it, he imagined, the less broken Dean's new life would make him.

"I'm not a demon."

_Denial. Great._ "You want proof, kid?"

"No," Dean said. If it had been anything else, he would have said yes, but he didn't want proof he was a demon. He didn't want Crowley using some crazy mind-trick to make him think he was more screwed up than he already was.

"Tough," the demon said, putting his hand back on Dean's shoulder.

"I said no."

Crowley shrugged. "We don't have to get to it straight away, if it makes you feel better. Why don't we go in there –" He nodded at an all-night diner. "And have a bit of lunch?"

Dean couldn't say no to food – never had and never would. "Fine. But don't think this is going to butter me up."

"I don't need to butter you up. Now, put these on." The King of Hell gave Dean a pair of sunglasses. "Just for me? It's one of my greatest fantasies, eating in an American diner with a handsome man in sunglasses."

He rolled his eyes but put the shades on, trying not to think too hard about why he was doing it.

They grabbed a seat at the back of the diner, away from anyone who might wonder what the cloth-wrapped bundle in Dean's hand was.

"What can I get you, boys?" a waitress asked with a smile that implied she'd give them anything they wanted.

"Nothing for me," Crowley said. "Dean?"

"Double cheeseburger and fries," he said with a nod and a wink, forgetting for a moment that she wouldn't be able to see the wink for the sunglasses. She seemed to get the idea, though, and bit her lip.

"Coming right up."

"Are you sure you want that cheeseburger?" Crowley asked. "Last time you ordered one you didn't even eat it."

Dean shrugged uncomfortably. "I wasn't hungry then. I'm hungry now."

The waitress came back, sliding the plate onto the table with a wink of her own. "If you need anything else, just holler."

He smiled and took a big bite of the burger.

And then resisted the urge to scream in agony.

He'd had bad burgers before – Hell, he'd had one that made him high and oozed goo – but none of them had been as awful as what he was eating now. It felt like the food was burning his mouth from the inside out.

"You might not want to swallow that," Crowley said with a straight face. "Salt does terrible things to a demon's digestive system."

Dean locked his jaw and swallowed the burger. He could feel it burning his insides as it went down his oesophagus. "I'm not –" He cleared his sore throat. "I'm not a demon. You just brought me to some dodgy diner to make me think that I'm allergic to salt."

"No, dumb-arse, I brought you to a normal-level-of-dodgy diner to prove to you that you're allergic to salt because that is exactly what demons are. Exactly what you are. I was hoping we could cut to the chase with this."

"I'm sorry?" Dean asked, finally wondering if everything Crowley had asked him to do was simply part of a plan to kill Abbadon.

"You're a demon that can kill anything, and I'm a king with a few problems in the servility department. The quicker you get over your little existential crisis, the quicker you can go back to doing what you do best: killing demons. Except this time, you'll be doing it on my authority, and putting the fear of Lucifer into every demon fool enough to disobey me."

"This was the plan all along, wasn't it? You knew what the Mark of Cain could do and you knew it would serve your own ends. Damn it, Crowley."

Crowley shrugged. "I didn't know, I hoped. One question: does this mean you admit you're a demon now? Can we get on with the merciless killing? I know you want to."

"I'm not a demon," Dean hissed.

"Do I have to get you a mirror? You have black eyes, Dean. You've got an urge to kill. You've got so many other things that we just need to unlock. You don't have to drive that stupid car everywhere now you're a demon – you can just pop up anywhere you like. Let me teach you how to be a demon, Dean. Let me show you a whole new world."

"No." He stood up and walked out of the diner, fighting the urge to run.

* * *

"Cas?" Sam asked, his hands eyes closed in prayer as he sat on the end of Dean's empty bed. "I don't know if you can hear me – or if Metatron has you locked up or what – but please. I need your help. Without Dean, I… hunting was always his gig, not mine. I've tried so many times to do this alone, but I can't. Not after everything that's happened. So please, Cas, as Dean would say, get your feathery ass down here. If you can. Okay. Thanks." He opened his eyes to see a broken-hearted Castiel standing before him.

"You called, Sam?" Castiel's voice was broken, his posture stiff.

"Are you alright, Cas? You look a bit the worse for wear."

"My best friend died, you jackass. Of course I'm…" Cas sighed. "I am sorry, Sam. That was indelicate of me. If you called me here for help getting rid of Metatron, you don't need to; we have him locked away now. He can do no one anymore harm, although many people wish that they could do _him_ harm." He clenched his fists.

"That's great news!" Sam said with a grin. "Let me just summon Crowley –"

"What? What have you done, Sam?"

"I made a deal. Crowley said he'd bring Dean back if I could get Metatron out of the picture. We're going to get him back, Cas!"

Cas frowned. "Why would Crowley want to get rid of Metatron?"

Sam shrugged. "Does it matter? He said he'd bring Dean back."

The angel looked dubious but nodded. "Summon him."

Sam took Cas into the bunker's dungeon and set up the summoning spell. "Where's Gadreel?"

"He's dead," Cas said stoically.

Sam just nodded, trying to hide his contentment with that fact, and started the summoning.

"What do you want now, Moose? I'm kind of busy right now." Crowley blinked in shock. "Cas. How lovely to see you."

"Metatron has been impeached. Sam tells me that this means you must bring Dean back."

Crowley shook his head. "That's not quite what the deal was. Where did you get the wings, Cas?"

"I don't know what you mean, Crowley," Cas said.

Crowley looked to Sam for help. "Don't tell me you didn't notice how quick he got here. He got his wings back – or at least, he got someone's wings back. Want to tell us how that happened, Castiel?"

Cas looked away, uncomfortable. "There is… a ritual that can be done. Hannah insisted on it. She believed it would help me to retain my grace if I had wings. She said that there were angels who thought Metatron should be punished in the same way that he punished us all, and that if I wanted to keep the masses quiet, this was something I would have to do. For the record, neither of us liked the idea."

"Didn't stop her advocating it – or you from doing as she said." Crowley whistled. "You're whipped, Castiel."

"Are you going to bring him back or not, Crowley?" Sam asked.

"I asked for Metatron dead and Cas as the new God. Is that too much for you?"

"Metatron can no longer bother anyone and Cas apparently has _wings_ again." Sam sighed. "How about you give us Dean back, and we finish the rest of the bargain?"

"Because I did not agree to this, Sam," Cas said. "And I do not believe that Crowley can do anything for your brother."

Crowley shrugged. "I can and I have – he's sat in a nice little corner of Hell just waiting for you two idiots to do what I asked. As soon as you bring me Metatron's literal head and proof of Cas' new-found royalty, he'll be straight up here to eat pie and do whatever it is that you three do."

"I don't believe you," Cas said.

"Then it's your –" Crowley paused as an idea popped into his head. _If Cas can kiss Meg, he can live with the changes in Dean. And if he can help him get used to them… _"You know what, Castiel? Since you're my favourite angel in all of Heaven, I'll let you come down and see him. Then you can come back up here and reassure Moose that his brother is fine. How about that for a deal-sweetener? Don't say I don't give you boys anything."

Cas looked away, then at Sam, and then at Crowley. "I have enough grace left to stop you from doing anything stupid, Crowley."

The demon rolled his eyes and grabbed Cas' arm. "I'll take that as a yes."


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley took his hand from Cas' arm and subtly brushed it on his trousers. "There's something we need to talk about before you see him."

"What, Crowley?"

"I didn't bring Dean back. Not really."

Cas set his jaw. "If you have his soul here in Hell, Crowley, I will bring all of Heaven down on you."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Calm down. He's alive; I just didn't make him that way. I need you to realise that – it's not my fault."

"What are you talking about? Take me to him, Crowley."

The demon put his hands up. "Okay, okay. He's in there." He gestured to a room with an iron door. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Cas shook his head and walked into the room. "Dean, are you –"

"No." Dean got up from the sofa he'd been sat on and walked to the back of the entirely black room. "I don't want to talk to you right now, Cas."

Cas stared at the familiar figure, who was wearing his usual plaid and jeans, shoulders hunched and face turned away. He was alive. "We thought you were dead, Dean. What did Crowley do to you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Everything is fine."

Cas shook his head. "It very clearly isn't, Dean." He walked forwards. "Dean, look at me." A fear began to play at his mind.

Dean sighed. He didn't want to face the angel, because facing him meant truly getting proof, because Cas would be able to see from his face if he was a demon. And he'd probably kill him if he was.

But that would be better than living as one. He turned around slowly, watching Cas' face carefully. The angel flinched.

"Dean?" he asked.

"Yes, Cas. It's me." Dean pushed away the hatred for himself that had slowly been building up since he was brought back to life by the Mark. He was a demon; Cas' expression was proof of that. But Cas would free him.

"Your face…" Cas shook his head, eyes wide. "What has Crowley done?"

"It was the Mark." He shrugged. "Well, that's what that dick said, at least."

Cas lifted his hand up, as if he was going to touch Dean's horrific face to check it was real, but quickly lowered his hand. "If it was the Mark, then we'll have to find a way to get rid of it. Did Cain know of a way?"

Dean shrugged. "If he did, he didn't say so. But… Cas… I'm – I'm a demon now." He shuddered in disgust at having to say the words. "I'm one of the monsters we fight."

"We can fix this, Dean. We can fix this."

"How the Hell are we going to fix it, Cas? I'm a demon with a fucking tattoo and a jaw bone that bring me back to life! How can we fix this?"

"Like we always do, Dean," Cas said, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Together."

The hunter grunted. "Like the time when you asked for our help to get rid of Raphael, right? Or the time when you asked for my help when Naomi had you? Like that?"

Cas squeezed his shoulder. "I'll ignore that, Dean, since you are no longer yourself."

"If you're not going to help me, Cas, then just go."

Castiel cocked his head. "But Dean, I was offering my help. I do not understand."

"I don't want your help to 'fix it', Cas. It can't be fixed."

"Then… what did you mean, Dean?"

He looked away. "It doesn't matter, Cas. Just go."

Cas frowned. "I will help you in any way I can and any way you wish."

"Will you, Cas?" Dean looked into the angel's eyes for the first time. "No matter what I ask of you, you'll do it?"

"Of course, Dean. Anything you need."

"Anything? You promise?"

"Yes. What do you need, Dean?"

Dean took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that the angel _would_ do this for him, if he was just brave enough to ask. "I need you to do what we do; kill demons. Kill me, and do it in a way that'll make it impossible for me to come back."

Cas just stared at the man, open-mouthed. "Dean…"

He nodded. "I know you're running out of grace, so this is selfish of me, but please, will you do this for me? I can't live like this, Cas. You don't know what it feels like, to have this… this _urge_ running through me to kill. I need it. If I don't kill something – I can feel it tearing at my bones."

"You can kill vampires and other monsters, like you've always done. And then we'll fix this, and it will no longer be a problem."

"You don't understand – we can't fix this. Even if, somehow, we find a way to get rid of the Mark, Sam will try to save me, to turn me human again. And if he does that, it might kill him, Cas! And that would kill me."

"I can't kill you, Dean."

He punched the wall with a growl. "Help me, goddammit."

"I can't."

"WHY NOT?!" Dean screamed.

"BECAUSE I NEED YOU!" Cas caught his breath at what he had said and fumbled for a lie to cover it. "I was able to get out of Heaven's dungeons thanks to Gadreel's honourable sacrifice, but Metatron is still out there, and he's still incredibly powerful. I can't do this without you… and the blade."

Dean blinked rapidly. "You're telling me that you won't do this… because of Metatron? Really? I don't know if you've noticed, Cas, but I already failed once at that particular hurdle."

"There is no one else, Dean." Cas didn't want to lie to his friend yet again, but if it meant getting him out of this state of self-hatred and giving him a purpose… well, Cas would lie through his teeth. "I'm sorry, but I can't… do as you wish until Metatron is dead. " He cringed inwardly; perhaps that was too much of a fabrication for the hunter to buy.

"Dammit, Cas." Dean shook his head. "Do you _swear_ that you'll help me after this?"

Cas nodded. "I swear, Dean."

"Then what do you need?"

Cas paused, trying desperately to think of something that wasn't actually killing Metatron that would keep Dean busy. "I need you to find some ingredients for me. For a spell that may weaken Metatron's connection to the Angel Tablet. I would look for them myself but I am supposed to be in hiding."

"What ingredients?"

"I'll write them down for you," Cas said, taking a pad of paper and a pen from his pocket and scribbling down the most rare things he could think of. _Angel tears, blood of a dragon, quartz from the deepest mine of Hell… _"There you go." He ripped the page out and handed it to Dean, who whistled in a way that seemed almost normal.

"This is some pretty hard-to-find stuff, Cas. This is going to take me a while."

"Pray for me when you've found it," Cas replied, turning back to the big iron door.

"What if… I need to… if the Blade…"

The angel paused. "If you need to kill?"

"Yes," Dean said in a choked voice.

"Get Crowley to help you with your search. I'm sure he'll be happy to find something for you to kill – just make sure you specify that they can't be human. Goodbye, Dean."

"Bye, Cas."

The angel strode straight to where Crowley was standing, leaning against a wall casually. "He is a demon, Crowley."

"I'm aware of that," Crowley said with a smirk. "He didn't ask you to kill him, did he? He's been doing that all day. Wait, you didn't kill him, right?"

"No, Crowley, I didn't. I told him that I needed him to help me weaken and kill Metatron."

"You lied." The King of Hell grinned. "Bad angel."

Cas ignored him. "You will need to watch him to make sure he doesn't kill innocents. Hinder his progress if you can. And if he feels the need to kill… I'm sure you will be able to give him demons to make an example of." He gave Crowley a knowing look.

"What do I get out of this?"

"What you wanted in the first place, you ass." Without waiting for a reply, Cas left the filthy denizen of Hell.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Apologies for the short chapter and the long wait – exams and block have got on top of me, but hopefully that won't be the case for long.**

"Is he okay?" Sam asked as soon as Cas materialised next to him. The angel blinked, unsure what to say.

"Your brother…" Cas looked away, focusing on the book shelves. "Crowley is keeping to his side of the bargain. We should too."

Sam frowned. "What aren't you telling me, Cas? Is Dean alright? Is Crowley torturing him? Is he even alive?"

Cas looked away. Lying to one Winchester was one thing, but lying to both? Dean was going to kill him, but Sam deserved the truth. "One of the… side effects of the Mark is that it can bring those that carry it back from the edge of death."

"Oh." Sam nodded. "So… Crowley isn't the one that brought him back – we don't have to do what he wants. That's great news." He didn't look pleased, though – it was if, Cas thought, the younger Winchester knew that that wasn't all.

"The Mark doesn't just bring carriers back to life. It…" He shook his head. He couldn't do it, couldn't say the words now that he was away from that infernal place. He couldn't keep the image of Dean's distorted, ghoulish face from his mind. A tear ran down his cheek, and he wiped it away mulishly. It had been a long time since he'd cried.

"Cas? You're kinds worrying me."

The angel shook his head. "Dean is… he's…"

Sam sighed, and looked down at the book he had open on the table. "He's not a demon, right? Please tell me that he isn't."

"How did you know?"

He tapped the book. "I've been reading as much about the Mark as I can, ever since I found out about it. I wasn't sure if death would get rid of it, so I continued researching it, and…" He wiped a hand across his face. "I finally got to the good bit. It says 'Cain's Mark can bring one back from mortal injury, but it has been speculated that, if one were to hold the Mark when human, one would not be brought back without harm. Many of my colleagues suggest that this 'harm' would be a transition into a demonic state.'"

"Does it say anything about how it could be undone?"

Sam scanned the next few pages quickly. "No. It doesn't."

Cas clenched his jaw to stop himself doing or saying something he would regret. "I have sent Dean on a wild angel chase –"

"Wild angel chase?"

He nodded. "It's like a wild goose chase, but instead of a goose, he is chasing an angel."

Sam smirked. "You don't chase geese on a wild goose chase, Cas."

The angel frowned but continued. "I am keeping Dean busy for his own sake. We need to find something to get rid of the Mark before he realises what I am doing. Then we will have to talk him into allowing you to return him to his humanity."

"Allow?" Sam looked pale. "You mean… he doesn't want to be human anymore? Has becoming a demon really changed him that much?"

Cas swallowed, looking at the books again. "He no longer wants to be anything. We need to save him quickly, Sam."

"Cas!" Sam exclaimed, used to the angel's speedy exits and resolved to keep him in place for a moment. "Your grace… would you like me to research a way for you to get it back, as well? I don't know if the Men of Letters will have anything, but it's always worth a try."

He shook his head. "Dean is our priority. We need to find a way to save him."

"But you could die without your grace, Cas. As much as I hate saying it… Dean can wait a while."

"He _asked me to kill him_, Sam. Crowley said he's been asking _all day_. Planning to kill Metatron for me seems to have calmed him a bit, but it won't last forever."

"Neither will you."

Cas looked down at the floor, trying to find the right words. "Sam, did you not hear what I just said?"

Sam nodded. "But I'm going to need your help getting him out of Hell, if that's where Crowley's keeping him, because I don't imagine we're really going to kill Metatron."

"He never wanted Metatron. He wanted Dean killing demons who have been disloyal. I've given that to him. You won't need me to get him out of Hell."

Sam looked at him with an expression that knew too much. "If Dean's doing Crowley's bidding and making examples of demons, is he ever going to want to give him up? Wouldn't that be bad for his image, to lose his assassin?"

The angel looked away. "If you could save Dean or me, who would you choose?"

"Dean. But I don't have to choose."

"You do. If you love your brother, you will choose him." Cas sighed. "I am going to go watch over him and make sure Crowley doesn't have him doing anything stupid. Call when you have any news on the Mark." A flutter of feathers, and the angel left the bunker.

Sam sighed and lifted the book about the Mark up, sliding another one out from underneath it. The cover read 'The Angelic Form'. The hunter tapped it and then opened it to where he had stopped reading. If he had to choose, he'd choose Dean – but keeping his brother alive meant choosing Cas too, no matter what the angel said.


	5. Chapter 5

Cas watched Dean as his hand began to shake. It had taken him too long to find him – it was going to be too late.

"I just need the blood, okay?" he said to the pot-smoking shop owner. "Give me that, I'll pay you, and then I'll be gone. I won't come back again."

"I don't sell to no demons," the shop owner said lazily. "I don't need to. I have Abaddon's protection, as long as I only sell to stupid humans who don't know what they're buying. And so that's who I sell to."

"Well I've got news for you," Dean growled, "The bitch is dead; long live the new-old one. I don't know what Abaddon wanted you for, but I imagine Crowley is less than eager to keep you alive, so give me the blood."

The shop keeper paled and handed over a small vial.

Dean smiled tightly and walked out. Cas followed, making sure he was invisible, even to Crowley, who was leaning against a wall outside.

"Is that everything, champ?" The demon asked.

"Nearly. We need the tears of an angel, but Cas can give us those." Dean's voice was clipped. "But I need something else first."

Crowley smiled. "Of course. I have one of Abaddon's most heartless followers sat in a holding cell just outside Ann Arbor." He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and Cas left, beating them to their destination by just a few moments; he remembered this place from when he had been foolish enough to work with the King of Hell.

"Where is he?" Dean asked loudly, gripping the Blade Crowley had just handed him tightly.

"Take the first left and it's the second cell on the right," Crowley said. Dean was moving before the demon had got half of his directions out, but it didn't matter – any one of the demons in cages could do with a bit of a messy death. "This is going better than expected, don't you think, Cas?"

Then angel made himself visible. "How did you know I was here?"

"I knew you wouldn't trust me to keep him on the straight and narrow; you had to turn up sometime. And if that sometime wasn't now, well, I'm not unused to talking to empty rooms."

"Why not just keep the demons in Hell?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Because they're demons, genius! They know how to get out of Hell. Michigan, however… even_ I'm_ not quite sure how to get out of Michigan."

Cas sighed. "How is he?"

"He is the Dean you know and love, as always – oh, there is the incredibly high bloodlust, too, and his inability to keep any food down. I thought at first that it was the Mark that made him struggle to eat, but now I think it might be that the food reminds him that he doesn't have to eat it anymore. But he's fine. Absolutely fine."

Cas heard Dean's footsteps and went invisible again, straightening his trench coat; Dean didn't look fine. He looked paler than any demon should be, and his eyes – when not black – were empty and soulless. Unsurprisingly.

"Shall I call Cas?" Dean asked. It made the angel flinch to hear him look to Crowley for support, but the demon seemed unphased. Was this something that happened often?

"I don't think you need to."

Cas made himself visible. "Have you found all the ingredients for the spell?"

Dean frowned. "What are you doing here, Cas?"

"I came to check on your progress. I can only run for so long before I am found."

"I have everything but the angel tears, which you can get yourself," he said gruffly.

Cas shook his head. "I don't have enough grace for it to work. That is why I gave you the job, Dean."

"Aren't all the angels upstairs preening at Metatron? Where am I going to get angel tears from?"

"Not all of them stand with Metatron. Some of them found a love of humanity and stayed on earth. They will be hunted down eventually, I imagine, and sacrificed as examples. But now they are hidden. Find one and ask for their tears." Without another word, he made himself invisible, adding the audible flutter of wings to make it seem like he had left.

Dean grunted and punched one of the walls. "Goddamn it!"

Crowley looked uncomfortable for what had to be the first time in his life. "I'll get someone looking for angels. It won't take long."

"And how are we going to get their tears off them, exactly?"

Crowley shrugged. "Sit them down and make them watch _Titanic_, I suppose. I'm sure we'll find an amenable one."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Crowley, but angels don't tend to be 'amenable', whatever the Hell that means, to _demons_."

"Don't whine, Dean. It's not like you're unused to difficult situations. If you can kill Leviathans with cleaning products then you can get a few tears from an angel."

"But it's going to take longer."

"Castiel can look after himself."

"I'm not worried about Cas. But the longer this drags on, the longer it is before he gives me what I want."

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "Well, I wasn't expecting that. But if you need someone to… satisfy your needs—"

"Shut up, Crowley. That wasn't what I was talking about."

"Oh, is this the whole 'dying' thing again? And there I thought that I was going to win my bet with Meg. Not that it matters now, of course, but she always was certain nothing would happen between you two."

Cas sighed; Crowley evidently knew what buttons to press on both of them. Meg's death was still painful.

"Let's just get going," Dean said. "I want to wrap this up."

* * *

Sam's head dropped, and his eyes shot open in surprise. He'd been about to fall asleep on the books again, but he couldn't stop reading. He'd found nothing new on how to get rid of the Mark – had exhausted every demonic book the library held from around the time of the demon cure with no luck – but he'd found thousands of books about the grace of angels. He hadn't expected the Men of Letters to do much to document angels because they weren't exactly friendly with humans even before the Apocalypse, but it seemed to be the Men of Letters' favourite subject.

Sam looked back down at the book he'd been reading before his eyes started drooping. It was called _The Angelic Order_, and suggested that God created pairs of angels with matching essences, so that if one had its grace lost, it could be replenished by their partner's. It quoted some vague statement in the Bible as its proof but otherwise seemed legitimate – it wasn't the only book to suggest the theory, and Sam thought it was worth a try.

Now all he had to do was work out who Cas' angelic partner was… and hope that they hadn't already been killed by one war or another.


	6. Chapter 6

"Cas, I have news. Come as soon as you can."

Cas' wings fluttered and he staggered as he landed.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked, getting up from his spot at the table to help the angel.

"I'm fine, Sam." He shook his head to get rid of the dizziness. Metatron's wings were heavy to hold up when he felt so weak. He'd been watching Dean day and night for a week now, and, though he didn't need sleep, he wouldn't have minded a rest every now and again. But he couldn't trust Crowley to do something even more shocking than he already had – if that was possible. And he had to watch it all. It was odd, but it felt like it would be disrespectful to hide away from it. "You said you have news?"

Sam sighed. "The Mark is still a no-go, I'm afraid. I don't think I'm going to be able to find something here – I'm going to need more modern or infinitely more ancient sources. However, I have found a way to get your grace back. Were you aware that God created angels in pairs?"

Cas waved a hand dismissively. "It's been suggested by many scholars in the past, yes. But I told you not to bother. We need to find a cure for Dean."

"Well it's too late now – I've already put in the work on this. We might as well follow it through. Do you know who the other half of your pair is?"

Cas frowned, seething. "No, Sam. I don't. Which is why I didn't mention it. I told you not to distract yourself, Sam. I specifically said not to. Why didn't you listen to me?"

"Because you're dying! I'm trying to help you!"

"Maybe I don't want to be helped!"

Sam shook his head. "What?"

"I don't deserve to be helped, Sam. I don't deserve to be an angel." Cas looked away. "I'm sorry you went through all that trouble."

"Cas, if you don't refill your grace, you'll die."

"That's a chance I'm willing to take. We need to find a cure for Dean." Cas leaned over the table. "Do you need me to procure some books? If you give me the names then I will find them."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and leant back in his chair. "Yeah, actually. I have a list of everything that's been referenced in the other books that I think will be useful but that don't seem easy to find. But I'm not giving up on you either. Whether you like it or not. I'm going to need your help for this, Cas."

The angel shook his head. "I'm not foolish enough to let you use the same excuse on me that I used on Dean, Sam. You could help Dean become human again on your own if you had to. Please, just focus on your brother. The longer he's with Crowley, the less likely it is that we'll be able to get him back."

"Okay. I will focus on Dean when you've found the books. But I enjoy thinking about other problems when I'm having a break from the research. So please, Cas, just tell me all you know about these angel pairs and who yours could be."

Cas sighed. "Fine. Fine, Sam. I will tell you. But I have to check on—"

Sam stood up and grabbed the angel's arm. "No, you're not flying off out of here until you tell me. I can't trust you to come back."

"Fine."

* * *

_Before Creation, there was God, and there were angels living with Him in Heaven. But these original angels, these Archangels, were not what He had hoped for. Some were ruthless, some were cruel, some were lonely, and some had no reason to follow His orders. _

_This made God unhappy, and so He decided that the rest of the circles of Heaven would be made of balanced creatures. But for balance, there must be more than one. And so God created angelic pairs, made from the same section of God's Grace and mirror-images of each other. Each angel had another, what the humans in future may call 'soul-mates', who balanced them; an angel who was ruthless would be paired with an angel of great mercy, and an angel who rebelled would be paired with an angel who followed their Lord's orders without thinking. Each pair worked together to be ruthless when needed and merciful when it was deserved, to rebel when they believed it to be right and to follow orders when it was necessary. The lower angels – for God, in His wisdom, allowed His flawed creations to be higher to stop the less flawed from becoming prideful – worked in harmony, and all of pre-Creation was idyllic._

_But when humans were created, some of the angels rebelled further than God ever planned for them to, and they Fell. Many angels were split from their balancing angel, and their grief was too much for their Father, who left His home for a location the angels didn't understand. In hopes of helping the split angels, the Archangels abolished angelic pairing, and the still-paired angels were separated from each other, put in different garrisons until their long memories forgot that they had ever been paired with another. The rumours of such a thing existing still made their way around the lower angels, and, in darker days, it was suggested that, as pairs were made from the same Grace, one could resurrect the other. However, no angel ever met their pair-mate after the separation – not that they were aware of._

_Many angels tried to find their pair-mate out of desperation. They looked for angels who were their opposite in as many ways as possible, but none of the angels they met seemed familiar, and none seemed special to them. It was if the Archangels had not simply separated them, but wiped their memories and hearts of each other. Nobody would believe that was the case, and so the angels stopped believing._

* * *

"Do you think maybe the Archangels did wipe your memories? Maybe that was part of Naomi's job?" Sam's voice and expression were hopeful. "If that's the case, will you not start remembering it soon enough?"

Cas shook his head. "I do not know, Sam, but I don't believe so. Angelic pairs seem like a story made up by angels who had lived with humans for too long. And the idea that the Archangels are inferior—" He shook his head. "It is almost blasphemous. They would certainly see it that way."

"But it's still worth looking into, isn't it? There can't be that many angels that are entirely obeisant but… lively. It's like looking for a version of Gabriel that hasn't fallen. That shouldn't be too difficult, should it?"

"I have changed much since I was first created, I believe. It may not be as simple as finding someone who is my opposite now. Angels live long lives, and after being made to forget so much of it, it's unlikely that my original personality has survived."

"Cas, please. For me, go to Heaven and look for someone who might be the other half of your pair. Please. If you don't find anyone, we'll have to work something out, but please try."

Cas had promised not to lie to the Winchesters once. "I will."


	7. Chapter 7

Cas stared at what had become of his brother while he was gone.

"Why won't you cry, dammit!" Dean shouted, clearly perturbed at what he had done to the angel – though the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth told Castiel that the demon in him had enjoyed every last bit of it.

"I do not weep, I will not weep. Torturing me will only bring the righteousness of Heaven down upon you, demon filth."

Dean sighed, waving the scalpel around. "They used to call me righteous, once. I used to do good. Not to blow my own trumpet, but I'm kinda like Heaven. Nowadays I just sit and argue with myself while people get hurt. All I need is some of your tears, that's all. They'll be doing good. They'll help Castiel take down Metatron. Do you not want that?"

"Metatron is—"

Cas appeared to Dean and made himself visible to Adriel on planes that were easier for him to understand (it was surprising he was still on earth since he seemed so unable to see Castiel on the usual frequencies). "That's enough. We can do without the tears; they only strengthen the spell." He wondered why he hadn't thought of this way-out hours ago, and then remembered that the whole point of this was to keep Dean occupied. A way-out was no help at all.

"Castiel," his brother said softly, making the broken angel feel dirty. "What is going on here?"

Cas shook his head. "I am sorry for the pain you have been put through, brother. It is my fault, and I sincerely regret it."

"Cas, we need the angel tears. The stronger the spell is, the easier it will be to take Metatron down, right? We've tried it once; we can't afford to fail again." Dean switched his grip on the scalpel, itching to get back to the torture.

Cas tried not to wince. "I will deal with this, Dean. Where is Crowley?"

Dean looked around. "I don't know. He was here a second ago."

"The King of Demons left to deal with some business," the other angel said.

"Right." Cas sighed. "Dean, I must go… confer with your brother about something. But please, let Adriel go. We do not need his tears."

Dean looked conflicted, but took off all of Adriel's restraints. The angel ran out of the room without a second glance – he was smarter than Castiel had ever been around humans.

"Was that a good idea, Cas?" Dean asked.

"Yes." Of that, the angel was certain. He would not let another of his kind suffer needlessly. Not again.

Dean shook his head. "Am I done now?"

Cas blinked for a long moment before grasping the man's meaning. "No. That's what I need to confer with Sam about. There may be more that you can help us with."

Dean frowned, throwing the scalpel to the floor. "Right. Great. Thanks. Good to know I'm needed."

"It should be." There he went again, saying things he didn't mean to say. "It doesn't have to be this way, Dean. We can help you."

"No. Don't do this, Cas. Just go – go talk with Sammy. We made a deal, remember?"

Cas nodded, suddenly feeling sick. What had his life become? Demon deals and letting his brothers be tortured so he looked like he wasn't there, killing angels and leading angels and forgetting what his mission was? "Yes." He fluttered away before Dean could say anything more.

* * *

"Sam."

The hunter nodded, putting a book down. "Did you find your… grace-partner?"

Cas stopped for a moment, having forgotten that he was also lying to Sam. "No, I did not."

"Well, I found some more information that might help on that subject – some of the more science-based Men of Letters did some physics equations and…"

"I brought your books." He dropped them on the table. "I must go watch over Dean."

"Wait, Cas." Sam sighed. "Please just listen for one second. If not for yourself, then for other angels who want to help each other."

Cas looked uncomfortable but nodded. "Go on."

"Some of the Men of Letters did some equations based on the physics of angelic fundamental frequencies…" he gestured to the book in front of him. "Don't ask me what any of it is and how they worked out your 'fundamental frequencies' in the first place, but the equations suggest that you _would _be able to tell when you saw your partner. You'd be able to feel it somehow – 'the two meeting would cause a feedback effect that left them and all others nearby feeling disorientated and ill.' I don't know how you coped before you all got split off from each other. Have you felt like this around anyone?"

He thought about it for barely a second before shaking his head. "I don't know, Sam."

Sam didn't look like he believed the angel but nodded. "Okay. Thank you for the books."

"You're welcome. And please, Sam, don't bother looking for my sake. You won't find anything."

"Sure." Sam sighed and turned back to the books.


	8. Chapter 8

Crowley returned to Dean to find an empty torture chair and a shaky mess.

"What in Lucifer's self-serving name happened here?!"

Dean shrugged, his hands trembling. "Cas said he didn't need the tears after all. He looked at me like…" He squared his jaw and curled his hands into fists.

The King of Hell rolled his eyes. "Like a monster? How shocking, the angel thinks the demon is a monster. Let me just go get the world's tiniest violin to correctly soundtrack your woes."

"Shut up, Crowley."

He sighed. He was sick of this mess of lies that babied his greatest asset. "If the angel doesn't need the tears, does that mean he'll finally get to his part of your bargain?"

"No. He has more work for me to do."

"Does he?" Crowley pretended to look confused. "As a salesman myself, I'd say you're getting rather played."

"If you don't have a demon for me to kill, I don't have anything to say to you, Crowley."

"Getting antsy already? There'll be no demons left at this rate. You're too busy killing the damn things to see what's right in front of your eyes."

"A manipulative dick that won't shut up?"

"While I know you mean me, you are almost right. Your angel is playing you."

"He needs me to help kill Metatron. That was the deal, and I agreed to it."

"You've been a hunter most of your life, Dean – you know that there's always another crisis he'll need you for. Besides, I just heard word from one of my many, many sources that Metatron is in angel jail. Castiel's already running that ship."

Dean shook his head. "He wouldn't lie to me."

"He's playing for time, and you're not even realising it. He's trying to find a cure!"

Dean blinked. "Are you sure?"

Crowley shrugged the question off, loathe to lie to the once-righteous man. "I don't need to be sure. It's obvious. Just wait and see what menial idiocy he brings you to keep you occupied. Your family doesn't want what you want. They're not going to let you die."

The broken demon growled. "Get me a demon, Crowley. Now."

The King of Hell smiled as he walked away. Family betrayal would bring Dean out of his funk. If it didn't… well, there were always less pleasant options.

* * *

Sam slammed the book onto the table. There was nothing here, nothing at all that could possibly help Dean. No matter how hard he tried, he came up with nothing. They needed Cain, but Sam didn't know how to reach him – if he was even still alive – and Castiel wasn't answering his prayers.

"If you want to help your brother, you need to find the man who gave him the Mark."

Sam looked up at the angel in front of him, confused about how she'd been able to get in without her wings – or a key. "Hannah? How did you get in here?"

The angel smiled, keeping her secrets to herself. "You want to save your brother, I want to save Castiel. I have the information you want, and I believe that you have the information I want."

"You asked Cas to kill Dean. Why should I trust you?"

"We need Castiel. We need his leadership. He needs to be alive for that, and your brother needs to stop being a problem. If I have to, I will keep your brother alive to save Castiel, even though he is a distraction."

"That doesn't inspire me with confidence."

Hannah sighed and sat next to him. "I am trying very hard to care about the deaths of humans nearly as much as angels because that's what Castiel wants from me. I will, however, kill you if it will speed up the flow of information."

Sam shook his head in surprise. "You seem like you can handle Heaven on your own. Why do you need Castiel?"

"That's none of your concern. Now, what do you know of his condition?"

Sam frowned. "Condition?"

"How is he? Does he look pale, does he need to eat – does he seem human?"

"Why are you asking me if he's alright?"

Hannah looked confused. "I need to know how long we have to find a way for him to share my Grace."

"You mean you're his angelic partner? Why didn't Cas know that?"

"I am only Castiel's second-in-command, Sam. Nothing more, and certainly nothing so human."

"But…" Sam shook his head. "Cas could share your Grace? And that wouldn't kill either of you?"

"We can live in harmony for all of time, I believe. If we can find a way to do it safely, Castiel won't die, and neither will I."

"What's the catch?" Surely, if it was as easy as that, Cas would have been on board.

Hannah winced. "It's never been successfully done, because the angels must have a strong enough bond with each other that they can be seen as one by the Grace."

Sam mulled that over for a second. "Have you heard the myth that suggests that angels were made in pairs? I think we've both been looking at two different sides of the same coin." He filled the angel in on everything he'd learnt.

Hannah was shocked. "You're a lot more helpful than I expected. No wonder the Winchesters are so famous."

"We have our uses. Do you know anyone who could be Cas' partner?"

She nodded. "I have some theories."

"And Cain?" Sam said quickly. "Where is he?"

"I'll bring him to you when I have found Castiel's partner." She smiled and left the bunker.


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel returned to his charge to find him in a rage.

"Who is your leader?!" He slashed at the demon with a dull knife. Bodies littered the floor around them.

"Abaddon!"

"The bitch is dead!" Dean screamed. "Who do you follow?"

Castiel became visible. "Dean."

The demon turned around, a snarling expression on his face. "You lied to me!"

"Excuse me?"

He kicked at the bodies. "You've been playing me, Cas! You were never gonna hold up your end of the bargain, were you?"

Cas sighed; he'd known that this was going to happen at some point. "We are trying to save you, Dean."

"I don't want saving, and I didn't ask for it."

Cas shook his head. "That's just the Mark talking, Dean. You would want to be saved if you weren't a demon."

Dean growled. "And you know that, do you? Dammit, Cas, this isn't your decision to make."

"It's for your own good!"

He looked at the uncharacteristically quiet demon he had been torturing. "You've seen what I've done, Cas. I can't go back from that. I can't be trusted."

"Just like Sam couldn't be trusted not to say yes to Lucifer? Just like I couldn't be trusted to do the best for my people? None of us are perfect, Dean."

"Most of us haven't gotten a taste for murder!"

Cas stared at his friend, slowly taking in his meaning. "You're scared that getting rid of the Mark won't get rid of the need to kill."

Dean shrugged. "I think I've gone too far."

"We're going to help you, Dean. Just please, let us help you."

"Promise me," he said, his voice shaking, "Promise me that if you can't fix me, or if you make me human but I still need to kill… promise me that you'll do it. And I don't mean just pretending to promise. Swear that you'll do it, Cas. Please. Look me in the eye and swear it."

Cas tried to get the words out, but he couldn't do it – he couldn't even think of doing such a thing with Dean stood there in front of him, his eyes full of pain. "I can't."

Dean's expression hardened. "Then I'll find someone who will." He turned to the demon he'd been torturing. "How about you? Do you want to kill me?"

"Dean, please—"

The demon shook his head. "I'm not stupid. Crowley would skin me alive."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're about to be killed, and you're worried that saving yourself would end with being killed? Demons."

"Crowley can think of worse threats than death." The demon shuddered.

Dean growled in frustration and picked the First Blade up from a table it had been sat on. "Are you sure?"

The demon nodded, whimpering slightly. "Yes."

Dean slammed the Blade into the Demon. "Then I'll find someone more willing."

* * *

Hannah had always suspected that there was something between Castiel and Shamsiel, though they were rumoured never to have met. There was something about the way they spoke that seemed similar, and the way their pasts ran had an odd symmetry; while Castiel was reprogrammed over and over when he rebelled, Shamsiel was a fervent servant of the archangel's wills who had been cast out. That was how the rumour went, at least. Shamsiel had Fallen to earth shortly before the Apocalypse. Hannah had heard that the angel had discovered the archangels' plan to allow the demons to let Lucifer out of his cage. He had not spoken against the archangels, but they cast him out anyway.

And then, when Metatron was defeated, Shamsiel returned to Heaven a different man.

Hannah walked through the halls of Heaven, searching for him. The angel had lost a lot of what made him an angel, though his Grace was wholly intact. He disliked being close to other angels, and spent a large amount of time in the personal Heaven of a man he had known when he was Fallen. For Hannah, personal Heavens were very difficult to find – too _human_ for her to understand – and so she wandered, hoping to lose her way and stumble into the personal Heavens.

It wasn't working. She had hoped to go to Shamsiel alone so as not to scare him, but it didn't look like it was happening. She called one of her subordinates who was more attuned to the humans, and he quickly took them both to the hermit.

"Shamsiel," she said grandly, "You have been called by your duty to our new leader."

Shamsiel looked at her through the dark eyes of his vessel, and then looked at the friend whose Heaven he was in. "Can't you see we're busy?" He gestured to the game of chess laid out in front of them.

"Castiel is dying," Hannah said, ignoring him. "We believe that you might be able to help him."

Shamsiel sighed. "I'm not being a part of your politics. Leave me alone."

Hannah blinked. "Our leader is dying, and you refuse to help?"

"I refuse to care." He picked up a chess piece and moved it. "Your turn."

"Have you heard the legend of angel partnerships?" Hannah asked.

Shamsiel rolled his eyes. "Leave me alone."

"I believe that Castiel is your partner. I believe that you can share Grace without dying."

"A lot of angels believe in a lot of things. It doesn't make them true. Castiel can't be my 'partner', whatever you mean by that. I have never met our fearless leader."

"Not that you remember. You were made from the same Grace, two halves of the same whole. It is why you are so similar."

"Similar?" Shamsiel scoffed. "He's a hero. I'm…"

Hannah smiled. "Castiel has made mistakes. He tortures himself for them. He no longer believes he deserves to be an angel."

"Then don't force him to be one. Let him die."

"Like your friend here let _you_ die?" Hannah asked, running on a hunch.

Shamsiel sighed. "You understand humanity a lot better than you admit, Hannah. I will talk to him about it." He turned back to his chess game as Hannah and her subordinate left.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is nearly it! Just in time for the new season to start and everything that happens here to look entirely ludicrous in retrospect. I hope you've all enjoyed reading!**

Sam wasn't expecting a knock at the bunker door. More than that, he wasn't really expecting Hannah to return.

"Cain, at your service," she said primly, pushing the man into the bunker and walking away before Sam could say anything.

"Hi," Sam said to the man. "Are you Cain?"

"That's what the angel said, isn't it? Why did she bring me here?"

"My brother. You gave him the Mark and now he's a demon. I want to know how to reverse it."

"How to cure a demon? I don't know that."

Sam shook his head impatiently. "I want to know how to get rid of the Mark."

Cain frowned. "Do you really think I would still have it if I knew how to get rid of it?"

Sam scoffed. "Would you have been able to give my brother the Mark if you hadn't done it before? Wouldn't I have heard of Marked demons running around if there were any?"

Cain nodded grudgingly. "You've got a brain, at least. That's good But the rest of the people who I Marked were killed by angels long ago. The Mark is permanent."

Sam set his jaw. "I don't believe you. I don't think you would have been so willing to give Dean the Mark if there was no way to take it back."

"Oh, don't worry. There's a way to take it back. Dean just won't be able to go through with it, now that he's a demon."

"I can make him human again," Sam said eagerly. "Then he'll be able to go through with it, right?"

Cain shrugged. "It's possible, I suppose."

The hunter grinned. "So what do we have to do?"

* * *

It didn't take Shamsiel long to find Castiel. Everyone in Heaven knew where he was and what he was doing. He was surprised by how little they seemed to care.

"Then I'll find someone more willing," Castiel's charge growled as Shamsiel appeared next to him.

It took the other angel a long time to notice him, but when he did…

Shamsiel nearly fainted – Cas actually did. The frequencies both beings existed on – the frequency, singular, something Shamsiel had never realised could happen – vibrated with the combined force of both the angels' weight.

"Cas?" The demon asked. "What…" He turned around and saw Shamsiel standing behind him. His grip on the First Blade tightened. "What have you done to him?!"

"Nothing." Shamsiel swayed. "It's just…" The frequency stabilised, and he walked towards his Partner.

Cas sat up and rubbed his head. "What happened?"

Shamsiel sat down next to him. "We exist on the same frequency. How is that possible? Could it – Hannah can't be right."

"Hannah can't be right about what?" Dean growled. "What's that bitch got to do with anything?"

"She said that we were angelic partners, but that can't be true. There's no such thing."

Cas sighed. "Hannah is correct. We are angelic partners."

"But what does that mean?" Dean asked.

"It means that Hannah has found a way to keep me alive."

* * *

"Dean must want to be saved, and he must be saved by an angel. If he does not truly want to be saved, he will be killed by the angel."

Sam sighed. "How do we get him to want to be saved?"

Cain shrugged. "Not my problem. Maybe you should focus on making him human first."

Castiel appeared in front of Sam. "What did you say to Hannah?"

Sam blinked in surprise. "We made a deal. I know how to save Dean. And we need you to do it – and to be fully angelic to do it."

Cas looked from Cain to Sam and back again. "Can another angel not do what you need?"

"Would they?"

"If I asked them to, they would." The idea still baffled him.

"And would you ask?"

Cas sighed.

"Please, Cas. You deserve this. So does Dean."

Cain coughed. "Both parties need to be entirely willing or it won't work. In fact, it could kill them both."

"I don't know that I can do this," Cas said, before disappearing back off to see Dean.

* * *

Shamsiel didn't like Dean. He didn't like demons in a general sense, but he specifically disliked this one.

"Stay away from Cas," Dean said for the twentieth time, swinging that Blade around like it was a toy.

"He currently appears to be doing my job for me," Shamsiel said dryly. "But I'm here to help him. Hannah said that he didn't want to be saved."

"What? What does he need to be saved from?"

"Dying. Castiel doesn't want to be angelic anymore."

Dean scoffed. "He probably thinks he doesn't deserve it anymore. As if you guys are some higher life form that can do no wrong."

"And that's ridiculous, is it?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sorry. I forgot that you were an angel. You probably believe he doesn't deserve to be an angel."

Shamsiel shook his head. "I don't think the form his existence takes matters. I just think that it's important that he exists."

"Why? What do you think makes him worth it?" Dean desperately wanted to know what the angels really thought of Cas; what the angel's life was like with his 'real' family.

"There is no question of 'worth', Dean Winchester. All beings should be allowed to live, simply by virtue of their being. Castiel doesn't have to do anything to deserve my help, although I do sometimes ponder whether it is cruelty to keep those who wish for death alive."

Dean frowned. "Then why are you fighting to keep him alive when he doesn't want to be?"

Shamsiel paused. He disliked this demon, but he had heard some of his story from the few angels he spoke with. He knew that Dean Winchester was not currently happy with his own existence, and he knew that the once-Righteous Man deserved to live just as much as the next person. He looked the creature in the eyes. "I used to be one of those people who didn't want to live. Now I'm not, and I'm very glad that my friends helped me to stay alive."

Dean looked away, clearly catching the angel's train of thought.

A flutter of wings knocked them both out of their own thoughts.

"Dean," Cas said, his voice shaky as he stumbled forwards. "Dean…"

The demon ran towards the angel. "Cas? Cas, look at me. What's wrong?"

"He's losing his borrowed Grace," Shamsiel said. "It's leaving him faster than it was before. We have to get him back to Heaven. We need Hannah to explain how the spell works."

"How long does he have?"

Shamsiel looked uncomfortable. "Not long enough. He's too weak to travel there himself, and my wings aren't strong enough to hold us both – they were injured when I Fell."

"Can you not just try anyway?" Dean asked.

"If I drop him, he'll be lost between dimensions. I can't take the risk."

"There's no other way! Just take him, dammit!"

"Dean…" Castiel whispered. "I need to…"

Dean dropped to his knees next to his friend. "What?"

"Do you want to live?"

"That's kinda besides the point right now, Cas."

The angel grabbed onto Dean's sleeve. "No. Tell me, Dean: do you want to live?"

Dean looked over at Shamsiel. They locked gazes, and the angel nodded at him.

"You deserve to try," Shamsiel said.

"Okay. Yeah, Cas. I want to live."

The angel's face relaxed into a smile. "Good. I know how to work the spell."


	11. Epilogue

When Crowley got back to the little lair he had Dean holed up in, he found two angels glowing with holy light.

"Winchesters," Crowley hissed.

"You don't have any hold over me, Crowley." Dean said. "So I'm sure you won't mind if these guys help me go see my brother?"

The demon stared up at the two angels, he saw one that he recognised – he saw two angels that he recognised, actually, but one of them was more fearsome than the other.

The angel who had defied Lucifer before the first Fall stood before him. The angel who had Fallen before the Apocalypse. The angel Crowley thought he could turn to for help in caging Lucifer.

The angel who'd killed all his supporters, so he'd had to start all over again. The angel who would easily smite him if he ever saw reason to – and no deals or blackmail would stop him.

In retrospect, Crowley didn't really need Dean and the Blade's help anyway. "Sure."

* * *

It was a long process that took many months, but eventually Sam cured his brother of being a demon. It was hard for both of them – demons drunk on human blood had a lot more 'chick-flick moments' than either of them were comfortable with, but they both survived.

And then it was time for Castiel to take the Mark from Dean.

Sam frowned. "Are you sure you both want this enough?"

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

"Of course, Sammy," Dean added with a little more hesitation. Being cured of demonhood hadn't got rid of Dean's urges – in fact, it had made them worse – and he didn't want losing the Mark to work the same way.

Sam saw the uncertainty in Dean's eyes. "This will kill you if you aren't completely certain, Dean."

Dean looked at Shamsiel, who stood at Castiel's back like he had since their own ritual had linked them. The angel smiled his usual encouragement, and Dean knew that the angel was right. He deserved to live, or at least to try – if he himself didn't deserve it, then all the friends who had helped him get there did. "I'm certain."

Castiel put one hand over Dean's Mark and one hand on his arm, exactly where he'd held him when he raised him from perdition. "I forgive you."

"I wish to be forgiven." Dean closed his eyes as a blast of light his him right in the chest; he was finally free.


End file.
